


To Help

by Kittycatkyla23



Category: Original Work
Genre: Short One Shot, Tigers, Tragedy, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22196809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittycatkyla23/pseuds/Kittycatkyla23
Summary: Do you know what your name means, Bangzhu? It means ‘to help’, as is what you should do. Give aide to those less fortunate than you, my son. For that is your best quality.
Kudos: 1





	To Help

There are many hungry animals within the world of the jungle. The monkeys, the bears, the hawks, the panthers, the crocodiles. But none as hungry nor as big as the fierce tiger. The tiger, atop her pristine palace of marble and sandstone, reigns over all, takes from all, but most importantly gives to all.

For if the biggest were to only take from those beneath her, eventually, there would be nothing left to take. The tiger knows this. All animals know this. So, they take only what they need and give back as much as they can in return. To provide substance to others so that life may continue. That is the laws of the land. The very fabric of nature.

The tiger upholds this law and takes great lengths to make sure all others within her jungle take heed as well. Especially, her precious son. Her heir to her lineage.

Her Bangzhu.

“Do you know what Bangzhu means?” Asked the mother.

Her Bangzhu could only shake his head.

“It means ‘to help’, as is what you should do. Give aide to those less fortunate than you, my son. For that is your best quality.”

“Yes, Mother!” Young Bangzhu nodded with an enthused smile. “I will always give help, as you wish it!”

Such ideal philosophy.

Such naïve eagerness.

Such foolish contentment.

The animals of the jungle were happy with their law of give and take. However, none were prepared when creatures came. Creatures that did not want to give and only wished to take. Creatures that took all they could to feed their gluttony. To feed their avarice. To feed their own conceited vanity.

They came. And they took, and took and took until the jungle animals had very little for themselves. Starvation broke out over the land. Brothers turned on brothers for the sake of their next meal. The graves of those long since passed became desecrated in hopes there would be at least some meat on their bones.

The mother tiger was besides herself in thought. The jungle was crying for aide that she did not know how to give. As she pondered how to handle such a crisis, her son came to her. Her Bangzhu. As if a beacon of hope, Bangzhu’s very presence gave her an idea.

“Bangzhu, I ask of you. To the next beast that comes asking for food, give them my right foot to eat. For the animals are hungry and we must give what we can. However, I ask of you, Bangzhu, one other favor. Paint a portrait of me within my proper glory. So that I may remember how I was as I become what I will be.”

The next night, a monkey came to plead for food. Bangzhu, with heavy hands, did as his mother requested and took her beautiful right foot off her striped leg. The monkey sang his praise of the tiger’s generosity and was off to feed himself.

“Bangzhu, I ask of you. To the next beast that comes asking for food, give them my left foot."

The night after, a hawk came to plead for food. And Bangzhu fed the hawk his mother’s left foot. The hawk chirped and danced the air around him to display his gratitude before he was off to feed himself.

“Bangzhu, I ask of you. Give the next beast my lower right leg.”

The night after, a crocodile came to plead for food. Bangzhu gave the beast his mother’s right lower leg. The crocodile swept the earth with his mighty tail to clean the floor the mother might walk across in return before he was off to feed himself.

The night after came the wolf and thusly took the left lower leg of Bangzhu’s mother. The wolf howled so that even the moon would know of the tiger’s gracious sacrifice.

Next came the bear, who was given the right thigh. The bear carved the beauty of the tiger’s stripes into the surroundings trees so all would remember her lovely features.

With each passing night, the beautiful tiger became smaller and smaller. However, without failing, Bangzhu painted the portrait of his mother. He spent hours upon hours, stroking the ink across the page so that no detail would be forgotten. He started with her lovely feet—since such a thing was the vaguest in his memory—and made his way up across the parchment.

By the twelfth night, the portrait was nearly complete. However, by the twelfth night, his mother had no legs to stand on nor arms to lean on. So, Bangzhu took it to her instead, laying it upon the floor so she made rest herself beside it. The mother marveled over the parchment before she fell away into sobs. Bangzhu knew not if she cried in appreciation for his hard work or cried in grief that she had lost the beauty she gazed upon. Bangzhu did not know, nor decided to ask. Instead, he hugged his mother close as she praised his artistry.

“Oh, please, continue as you have, my son! As I’m sure it’ll come out simply beautiful! I ask this of you, my Bangzhu!”

Bangzhu continued to paint, diligently, as requested. He painted and painted until the thirteenth night came.

And with that night came a vulture.

“I must ask of you to leave.” Bangzhu said to the vulture. “My mother has no more food to give.”

“Oh, please!” The vulture begged. “This food is not for myself, but for my wife—heavy with our yet-to-be-born! I plead with you, Oh! Good tigers, for food so that my wife may lay her eggs and feed our young!”

“My mother has no more food to give.”

“Please, Oh! Great Bangzhu! You must help me, for that is your namesake!”

Bangzhu, in conflict with such a request, took such words back to his mother. She was quiet as she lay on the floor. When she finally spoke, she had this to say:

“Bangzhu, give this beast my body. It should be enough to feed his wife and young.”

Bangzhu tried to argue with his mother, however, she silenced him with powerful words.

“My loving Bangzhu, do you know what your name means?”

The vulture was beside himself with happiness as he flew off to feed his family—leaving behind only a black feather.

“It means ‘to help’, as is what you should do.”

The son held the portrait in his hands. Complete and a full display of his mother in her proper glory.

“Give aide to those less fortunate than you, my son.”

The tiger wept. He lamented upon the portrait, as it was the only grave his mother had.

“For that is your best quality.”

On the fourteenth day, a tiger walked through the forest with his head low and tail dragging. Within his hold was the portrait of his dear, dear mother.

“Excuse me!” a panther cried. “Are you not Bangzhu?”

The tiger refused to answer.

“I have heard that you were giving out food. Oh, please, I beg you, Good Bangzhu, do you have any to spare for me?”

“I am not Bangzhu.” The tiger stated in a voice of solemn malice. “I shall not give help to anyone who asks nor ever again. For helping has given me nothing in return.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bangzhu is Chinese for 'to help'.  
> So, I took a nap today, and had this dream. My dreams usually play out like a play or a book, very obviously by a script. I can only assume it's because I spend everyday writing that the way I dream has changed.  
> But anyway, I took a nap, had this dream, and wanted to jot it down before I forgot it. This literally took about an hour/2 hours tops.  
> I can see the profound meaning behind this story, but I'm not going to go into it. There wasn't a profound philosophy from the dream. Just a sorrowful, lamentable dream and that's what I--personally--am going to leave it at.  
> Thanks for reading~!  
> KCK


End file.
